


Greenland Isn't Really Green

by booksandstarsarebetterthanlife



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Eiffel is SI5 in this, For reasons, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 21:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13749783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksandstarsarebetterthanlife/pseuds/booksandstarsarebetterthanlife
Summary: Regardless of what Maxwell says, you do not make bad choices. The problem is that all your good choices lead to truly terrible situations. Case in point: it is negative thirteen degrees out, you are not wearing a shirt, and Kepler looks like he wants you dead.





	Greenland Isn't Really Green

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing ive written in like three years so bear with me. This is also kind of self indulgent but the folks on the w359 discord encouraged me. I wont lie, im actually kind of proud of this.

Regardless of what Maxwell says, you do not make bad choices. In fact, if you had to describe your choices, you would even call them "well considered". The problem is that all your good choices lead to truly terrible situations. Case in point: it is negative thirteen degrees out, you are not wearing a shirt, and Kepler looks like he wants you dead.

You would like to state for the record that none of this is your fault. The mission was going fine until some jumped up security guard started shooting. By the time it was all said and done, your escape vehicle was in ruins and your shirt was on fire, also there were significantly more dead bodies than the mission had called for. This never would have happened if Maxwell had been there.

Maxwell is still at home, laid up with a broken leg caused by a minor incident in Mexico last week. This leaves you alone with Kepler and Eiffel. Even when he isn't acting like a fool in some fucked up attempt to impress Kepler, Eiffel doesn't exactly do well in the "taking things seriously" department. Which, sure, you don't really either but at least you've never blown up a vehicle that you weren't asked to blow up.

So really, this is Eiffel's fault. And yet here you are, being blamed.

"Mister Jacobi, why exactly were there several... pounds... of explosives in the truck?" 

"I never go anywhere without a backup plan, sir. And that wouldn't have been a problem if Eiffel wasn't smoking. How was I supposed to know he was gonna light up in the middle of a mission?" Eiffel doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed of himself.

"Hey, as far as I was concerned, the mission was over!"

You round on him, temper flaring. "So, what, figured you'd have a smoke and just... toss it into the puddle of highly flammable gasoline when you were finished?"

"How was I supposed to know that idiot had hit the gas tank? It’s not like I make a habit of-"

"Maybe if you paid more attent-"

Kepler cuts the both of you off with a violent hand gesture. You both fall silent and turn back to face him. "If the two of you could take a moment to stop squabbling over blame, perhaps... you would notice... that we have a situation." His gaze travels slowly between the still flaming wreckage of the car, the building around you, and your own bare chest. He seems to be weighing his words, and when he does speak, it’s with his characteristic slowness. "We are stranded... in Greenland, all of our long distance comms equipment was in the SUV, and Mister Jacobi seems to be... without a shirt."

Eiffel looks over at you and finally seems to note your state of undress. He hurriedly removes his jacket and strips off one of his layers of sweaters and hands it to you. It... kind of helps. Then he pulls out his cell, like he’s actually expecting to get signal in fucking Greenland.

"Major, do you think we might be able to get enough pieces of the equipment from the truck to rig a rudimentary method to contact Canaveral? I mean, so long as a few specific parts are still intact, I should be able to wire us up something functional at least." Just like that, your opinion of him as the worst part of your life is refuted and you remember why you keep him around. Kepler seems to be thinking along the same lines.

"I would suggest, Mister Eiffel, that you got on that." Apparently, Eiffel recognizes Kepler's "don't ask me stupid questions just do your job" voice, because he hurries to search through the wreckage. This leaves you alone with Kepler, which is... not great when he still looks like he'd like to kill you and you're half frozen.

“I'm gonna go... look for supplies! I still have my short-range com on me, let me know when he gets something up and running.” You hurry off to search through the now empty research lab in hopes of finding warmer clothing and maybe some food.

<0>

“Mister Jacobi, Eiffel has managed to make contact with command. Bring anything you think might be of use.” Kepler's voice cuts through your haze of freezing fingers and painful burns, snapping you out of your misery. All you've found is a blanket and some cheese curls. You bring them along anyway.

Eiffel is sitting next to a contraption that appears to be ninety percent duct tape and string holding together a few technical bits. It’s fairly impressive that it even works.

“Well, Mister Jacobi, what have you found?” You wordlessly hold up your findings. The look on his face would be comical if it didn't so closely mirror your own thoughts.

“Please tell me they're sending a retrieval squad as we speak, sir.”

“Not... exactly.”

“They said they can't send anyone out until tomorrow. They all but told us to sit still and be good until they give enough of a damn to do something.” Eiffel is angry, like this is a personal betrayal. It reminds you of how short a time he's worked for Goddard Futuristics. You take the news in stride, having half expected it in the first place.

“Guess it’s up to us to not freeze to death then. We can probably hole up in one of the offices, but the explosion blew out the main heater, so it’s gonna be cold as shit. We have one blanket.” You wave it a bit to emphasize your point.

“We could... switch off? Like shifts?” Even as he's making the suggestion you can see him writing it off as ineffective. You both turn to Kepler, hoping he might have a better idea, but he's searching through the remnants of the truck in the hope of finding any supplies that survived the fire and subsequent explosion so he isn't any help.

“We can figure it out once we set up camp. C'mon, I found an office that's small enough to stay warmish. Maybe we can burn a few of the wooden bookcases. Sir, do you have any objections?”

He looks up from the pile of scrap that used to be an SUV. In his right hand he is holding what appears to be a very dented but miraculously intact flask. You take a moment to be vaguely impressed by his determination to have that damn whiskey at all times.

“No that sounds like a fine plan Mr. Jacobi. If you can refrain from blowing up the rest of the building before we get there, that is.” You sigh, having almost been expecting the comment.

“That won't be a problem, sir.”

“Excellent!”

<0>

“This isn't going to work. No one is warm, and we're all miserable. You guys know what we have to do. I know at least Jacobi watches TV. It's huddling for warmth time.” It true. You know it’s true. Kepler knows it’s true. You just... really don't want to give him the satisfaction. But at this point, it’s getting too cold to keep holding on to your dignity.

“Alright, asshole. Move over then.” He shuffles over to make room for you in the corner and drapes the blanket over your shoulder. This has the added effect of putting his arm across your back and it really is warmer this way. It’s almost nice actually. Then he goes and ruins it by opening his mouth.

“Sharing body heat is more effective if there's no clothes in the way, I'm just saying.” In your opinion, you are perfectly justified in punching his arm. Kepler still gives you both the stink eye and goes back to reading the book he found god knows where in this subarctic shit hole.

“It really is warmer with more than one person, sir. I promise not to tell Maxwell you cuddled with someone other than her.” Maxwell was notorious for climbing into other people's beds when she finally admitted to needing sleep. She also had vaguely octopus like tendencies when she slept. You will never forget, as long as you live, the sight of Warren J. Kepler lying flat on his back with one of his rather large dogs against one side and Maxwell splayed over the other, effectively pinning him to the bed. Maxwell made you delete the pictures.

Kepler gives the two of you and your raggedy blanket an appraising look. “I... see. And should I take my clothes off as well?” Eiffel splutters, ramming an elbow into your side as he wriggles around to look at Kepler, eyes wide. You kick him in the shin before replying to your superior officer.

“I dunno, sir. That one is up to you.”

Kepler smiled that infuriating half smirk that makes you want to kill him and kiss him all at once. He also comes over to join you in your huddle. You're pretty sure Eiffel hasn't remembered how to talk yet, let alone move, so you slide over to let Kepler under the blanket in between you.

Kepler is, as always, radiating heat. Finally, you can feel yourself starting to return to something resembling a normal temperature. You thank whatever powers may be for that small shred of mercy.

Eiffel appears to have recovered from his shock at the existence of Kepler's sense of humor, fucked up as it is. Of course, him recovering means he starts talking again. You can think of a lot of very creative ways to shut him up, but you go with the least drastic option, and reach around Kepler to stick your still freezing fingers down the back of Eiffel's sweaters.

He reacts more violently than you expected, jerking away from your hands and kicking Kepler in the process. “What the fuck! Why are your hands still so cold?”

“Oh, I have no idea, it couldn't possibly be the negative thirty-degree temperatures. Not at all.”

“Mister Jacobi, if you do not leave our communications specialist alone I will ensure you do not leave the office... for a month. Am I clear?”

“Crystal, sir.”

“Good. What do you say we play a game instead?” You're groaning before he even finishes talking but Eiffel looks excited. He hasn't been part of the team long enough to know why this is the worst thing that could possibly happen. You try to prevent the inevitable.

“I’m sure that isn’t necessary, sir. Eiffel and I can absolutely entertain ourselves; a game won’t be needed,” You fake a yawn. “Would you look at that, it’s getting so late. Maybe we should just sleep for the night.”

They both completely ignore you. You really can’t blame them, that was a horrible attempt at redirection, but you know the dangers of playing a game with the Major.

“What sort of game?” Now he’s gone and done it. There is no escaping now that games have been mentioned.

“Hmm… maybe I Spy?” You bury your face in your hands. This is gonna be a really fucking long night.

<0>

“I spy… something white.” They’ve been at this for what has to be two hours. There really is only so much around to spy. 

“Sir, I would like permission to kill myself.”

“Denied, of course. If you aren’t enjoying the game, I’m sure we can pick another. Perhaps Questions Onl- “

“Actually, I would like permission to take a walk around the building. For safety purposes of course.” Anything to get out of hearing range before you personally murder one of them. Eiffel obviously misses the point because he immediately pipes up.

“That sounds like a good idea, I could come help.”

“One person is much better. Less likely to attract attention, isn’t that right, sir?” You turn to Kepler, praying he agrees with you.

“That’s not a bad idea, Mister Jacobi. Take your headset and keep in contact. If I don’t hear from you every five minutes that you’re gone, I will come find you myself.”

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” You manage not to physically run from the room, but only just. You figure you can get away with ten minutes in between check ins before he actually does come hunt you down and about an hour before he makes you come back. That should be enough time to search the building more extensively for supplies than you were able to on your first abortive trip through the building. And it’s an hour free of the stupid road trip games.

Your first ten minutes of wandering is as peaceful as you were hoping. Kepler gives you some shit when you radio back, reminding you that “I said five minutes Mister Jacobi. Not ten.” You figure Eiffel was probably freaking out, since Kepler knows you too well to expect regular check ins. 

Another ten minutes goes by, and you manage to come across some kind of canned food in the back of a cupboard. Seeing as you and Eiffel ate the small bag of cheese curls an hour ago, you count this as a blessing. You radio in again.

“I found food. Not much and it’s in a can but it is food. Want me to come back so you poor babies can eat?” Kepler takes a few moments to respond and you are just starting to get a little worried when he answers, sounding like his usual obnoxious self.

“Bring it back with you after you finish your round. We can certainly wait that long to eat whatever it is that you’ve found.” 

“Sure thing, sir. Jacobi out.” If he doesn’t want you back now, you are hardly going to force the issue. They’re probably still playing that awful fucking game.

<0>

Fifty minutes in and you think you might be running out of building to search. You commandeered a sweater early on that probably once belonged to someone who is now lying dead in the lower levels of the building, so you aren’t freezing, hypothermia-imminent cold anymore, but it’s still chilly and you are beginning to think fondly of the warmth of the shitty blanket huddle.

You radio in again, but this time a response is not forthcoming. Waiting a few, worried moments, you try again. When there’s still no reply, you take a few seconds to assess the situation. You’re still armed, a medium caliber pistol on your hip and a rifle slung over your back. You have plenty of ammunition. Whomever- or whatever; you frantically try to remember if there are bears in Greenland- got the jump on your teammates is going to have one hell of a fight on their hands. 

Unfortunately, you aren’t prepared for any major first aid of any sort. Most of your supplies were in the truck. Deciding that that’s something to deal with after the threat has been neutralized, you start making your way back to the office you had camped in, pistol in hand in case any intruders are searching the upper levels of the building.

You reach the floor that’s serving as your base with no incidents. Obviously, the targets didn’t think to search the building for anyone else and are focusing on your teammates. It’s a stupid mistake and it’s also going to be the last on they ever make. 

(A small, nervous part of your mind is still yelling about bears but you think you are doing a pretty good job of ignoring it.)

The door to the little office you all are holed up in is still closed when you get there. You can’t hear anything but that doesn’t really mean anything. Bracing your pistol in both hands, you kick the door open and swing around the corner.

No one is dead. No one is bleeding. There aren’t any intruders. (There isn’t even a fucking bear). In the split second after the door opens you can see them standing close together with Kepler’s hand in Eiffel’s hair. Then Eiffel jerks away from him to look at you, eyes wide and cheeks red, and takes a step away. Kepler looks perfectly composed except for where his shirt collar is crumpled- from Eiffel holding on to it, your brain helpfully supplies.

“Shit, uh, hey Jacobi, wasn’t expecting you back so soon, what’s up. Why is your gun drawn, did something happen?” Eiffel’s lips are swollen and there’s a mark at his throat that’s just beginning to redden. You cut him off with a wave of your hand and address Kepler. You are almost certain that your face is as red as Eiffel’s but you both ignore it.

“I came to give my ten-minute check in in person and to make sure the situation was still secure, sir. You weren’t answering comms.”

“I do believe I said five-minute check ins, Mister Jacobi.” Looking at Kepler, you would have no idea what you walked in on, other than that wrinkle in his usually crisp shirt.

“Maybe I misheard you. You might want to put your earpiece back in, sir, so I can make my regular check ins.” You gesture to where his headset is laying, about a foot away. Eiffel is looking between the two of you like you aren’t speaking English. Kepler just gives you a Look, and beckons you closer.

You holster your gun and step into the room. You’re not sure what you’re expecting, but it certainly isn’t Kepler grabbing your shoulder in an almost gentle grip and pulling you down into a kiss. You sure as hell aren’t objecting. 

His hand slides up to the back of your neck and you hold onto his shoulders for balance. Your own hand fits perfectly over where Eiffel had already crumpled his shirt and you can’t help the sound you make at that thought. You can hear him, in the background, breathe out the smallest “oh” like he’s finally solved something that’s been on his mind. You don’t have a chance to figure it out before Kepler is deepening the kiss and all of your attention is back on him.

Eventually you have to break apart for air and when you do, Eiffel is right there at your side, with his hand at the small of your back, but he’s looking at Kepler when he asks “Can I?” and you’re a little surprised to note that he’s breathless. And then you realize that he looks as wrecked as you feel and you aren’t sure what to do with the knowledge that watching you and Kepler kiss has just as much effect on him as the actual kiss did on you.

Kepler just looks smug as shit and you kind of want to deck him, but then he nods and your attention is back on Eiffel. He’s careful to meet your eyes when he lifts a hand to the side of your neck.

“Stop me if you aren’t okay with this,” and then he’s kissing you and its nothing like kissing Kepler, who kisses like he’s claiming you. Eiffel kisses soft and sweet and you don’t think you’ve ever been kissed like this before and your head is spinning. He licks into your mouth and it crosses your mind that maybe this whole thing is a little fucked up but then there are lips on your neck and you’re gone.

<0>

“See, I told you huddling for warmth works better if you’re naked, why does no one listen to me.” You still feel perfectly justified in hitting him. And you aren’t even surprised when his jerks and knees Kepler in the side. It really is going to be a very long night.

You will admit that you are warmer though.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for reading, comments and criticism are encouraged. if you want to yell at the author in a different format you can find me on tumblr at actual-human-disaster-jacobi. i love these assholes a lot.


End file.
